IN BILLETS.
_December 10th, 1914._
We marched away from our trenches last night, and no one was hit,
fortunately. A machine gun opened on us just before we started, and
gave three bursts of fire, and of course the sniping went on steadily
as usual. I soon found out that this gun fire was drawn by a foolish
corporal of the Lincolnshire Regiment, who, in cooking his guards'
suppers, had a fire with flames four feet high. A few biting words
relieved my feelings and put the fire down! Still bullets did fly
around us, over our heads and beside us, while we passed along in the
black night. Mr. Wright, my Adjutant, saw one strike in a puddle
between him and myself as we marched at the head of the Regiment. You
will be interested to know what our 72 hours in the trenches cost us.
Of course I cannot tell you our casualties for fear this letter should
be read by the enemy, but if you remember the number of our house in
Victoria Park, Dover, and General H----'s combined, that was the
amount of my killed and twice that of my wounded;[6] so you see what a
business it all is. Please God the Germans will shortly have had
enough. I used to say that they were losing a quarter of a million men
every fortnight. Now, however, it has turned out that mine was an
under-estimate, and that they are really losing 300,000 a fortnight,
more than I gave them credit for. People thought me over-sanguine, but
now they say I am rather a good judge. We have just heard the news of
the naval battle off the Falkland Islands this morning, and we are
very elated. My idea is that Germany's frantic attacks on the Russians
and on ourselves here will wear her out faster even than if we
attacked; and "it will arrive," as the French say, that she will be so
done that she will have to surrender at discretion, because her
population will fight no longer. I wonder whether Sir John agrees with
my views. Personally, I think it surprising that Bavaria has gone on
as long as she has. I fancy that she will be the first of the German
Federals to jib. Your letter of the 1st arrived whilst I was writing
this, also a joint letter from Hal and Blanche; I was so glad to get
all three. As to clothes, I keep an old suit for the trenches; when I
get out and have to go anywhere, I turn out quite smartly, excepting
that my boots and leggings are "dubbed" with grease instead of being
polished. When my old suit is done, my form will be encased in
Government khaki garments with my badges of rank transferred, and that
will keep me going to the end of the war.
I hope you thanked Mrs. Horsborgh[7] for the donation to the Regiment
on my behalf. It was very little I was able to do for her husband
beyond burying him, but it was a kind thought of hers. The chamois
leather waistcoat is the comfort of my life, thanks to Sir John, and
the idea of another plum pudding from Aunt Blanche is already making
us feel better. I had my first tub since I came across to-day. I think
it was a pig-tub, but I had it cleaned out and washed.